Stream of Consciousness
by BuriedBeneath
Summary: She was grounded, the Normandy commandeered, and while the break at any other time would have been nice, she had things she needed to do, an invasion to stop, a galaxy to save, and not a single person seemed to give a damn.
1. Arrival

**Stream of Consciousness  
><strong>_Arrival_

Shepard hadn't been expecting to see him again. She'd spent the last six months on house arrest, unable to do anything about the upcoming war that no one believed was a reality. But when Vega called her out of her apartment to meet up with Anderson, she knew something big had happened.

She hadn't been expecting his rough timbre to be the one calling her name, recognizing her without even seeing her face, even when she'd cut much of her reddish hair off into a short crop. Hell, with all they'd shared, that shouldn't have been surprising, but it was. Probably because what she _did _expect was for him to still be angry with her. Which was perfectly fine with her, because she was angry with him, though much of that anger had dimmed to a throbbing annoyance during their time apart.

The stirring of emotions she saw in his eyes when she turned back to face him, however, were anything but. There was respect, along with a hefty side-order of anxiety, and that guarded nature that was so characteristic of him, but she saw no anger. She tried not to focus on the awkwardness of his forced smile as she passed him and their eyes briefly met, or on the memories that fired into her mind as she walked by. She pushed the awareness of the electric charges that fired between them, sharp and painful, from her mind. So many possibilities there that, while she may have wanted them to happen, she knew better than to expect them. What she _did_ know, was that her heart throbbed painfully in her chest.

Not that she showed it. In fact, she tried her damndest not to.

Her jaw clenched, and she maintained the strong, neutral appearance expected of her as a soldier, while returning his nod with her own and making her way past him into the conference room.

When she stood before the Admirals of the Defence Committee, her gut collapsed in on itself, and she fought hard to keep in control. Unlike the Council, the Alliance was an organization she respected. She hated politicians—hated politics in general. But, the soldiers standing before her had climbed their way up through the ranks to a position of respect, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to at least _try_ to give it to them. Not that it mattered now. Shepard knew why they'd called her before them. She knew what was happening, as well as Admirals Anderson and Hackett. Those standing in front of her now knew too, much as they wanted to deny it and write her off as they had done so many times in the past.

But she couldn't do anything worthwhile without a ship. She was grounded, the _Normandy_ commandeered, and while the break at any other time would have been nice, she had things she needed to do, an invasion to stop, a galaxy to save, and _not a single fucking person gave a damn!_

And now, what was happening? They were losing contact with their colonies and defense systems. It had started. The Reapers had arrived, and they weren't anywhere _near_prepared for the battle ahead of them, an invasion of this scale.

She'd thought that after narrowly avoiding the invasion by destroying the mass relay in the Bahak system, sacrificing the lives of three hundred _thousand_ batarians (one of the two hardest decisions she'd ever had to make), things would be different.

Stupid.

Naive.

She should have known better. The sacrifices of those batarians had been in vain, because despite buying them time, _nobody _used that time to prepare! They'd closed her off from anything she could have possibly done by grounding her, forcing her suspension, locking her in her apartment, and closing their minds to her pleas for preparation.

A conversation she'd had with Garrus before heading through the Omega 4 relay rose unbidden to her mind. He'd found her in the lounge, nursing a bottle of whiskey with her head in her hand, despite being unable to get drunk due to Cerberus' upgrades. Hey, no getting drunk meant no hangover, which meant a clear head for when they went through. Didn't mean she couldn't get tipsy though, even if the effects only lasted for about an hour.

"What kind of galaxy is it, that when my species is threatened, I can garner support from turians, salarians, krogan, quarians, and asari, but not my _own damn species_? How does that even make sense?"

"You're forgetting that ninety percent of this ship's crew is human, Shepard." He'd assured her, "They're all here—_we're_ all here—because we believe in you."

"That's a nice sentiment, Garrus, but the fact remains that we're just one ship. We can't stand up against an entire army of reapers by ourselves."

"The Alliance just doesn't want to believe the truth." He'd said, "They're scared, but they'll come around."

"_They're_ scared?" She'd argued, looking up at him, "_I'm_ scared. Because I'm the only one willing to acknowledge the fact that the reapers are coming to destroy us, and _I can't beat them on my own_."

She never thought she'd be _longing_ for Quarian politics. At least on the Migrant Fleet, some miracle allowed her to work the crowd enough to convince them to clear Tali of her charges based on everything she had done in her past with the fight against Saren, without even _needing _the proof they uncovered while searching for Rael'Zorah. What about Shepard? Hadn't she done enough for the galaxy to be offered even a smidgen of credibility with her _own fucking people_? Apparently not, in their eyes. Nope, she was not a Spectre. She had not risked her life and the lives of her crewmates to save the Citadel from Saren and the geth, and she had _not _just saved humanity from the Collectors! Sure, maybe the notion of the big bad race of ancient sentient beings set to wipe out all organic life was difficult to believe. But she was not crazy, and she was getting sick and tired of everyone believing that of her. Thinking that it was all a result of some PTSD bullshit. Questioning her sanity as if everything she had done, everything she had been _right_ about was utterly pointless.

She was sick of a lot of things. Sick of being the only one with the knowledge of the Prothean beacons and the Reapers. Sick of being the only one willing to do anything to stop them. Sick of being written off by people who were supposed to believe in her. Sick of feeling completely _useless_.

Now, they were asking for her help. _Well, it's about fucking time._

She wasn't just tempted to say '_I told you so'_. No, what she _really _wanted to do was to grab them all by the shoulders and scream it in their faces. But the circumstances were too dire, and it would have been in horrible taste, so she shoved the childish notion down. She did have _some _restraint, after all, and when a reaper ship descended from the sky, all eyes turned to the massive window overlooking the city of Vancouver. Still, after everything she'd faced, despite all of her personal preparation, despite everything she already knew, the bottom dropped out of her stomach and her heart pounded in her chest. _God... this is really happening, isn't it?_

The moment passed, though, when the ship fired a beam that cut a path of destruction up through the city streets and headed directly for them.

"**Move!**" She shouted, and she, Anderson, and the rest of the Admirals in attendance scattered just as the laser smashed into the building, through the window, and sent the massive conference table hurtling across the room, narrowly missing her head as she slid to her knees.

She wasn't sure where the explosion came from, only that it blew her from her feet and sent her flying backwards into a wall where she felt the air vacate from her lungs and her vision clouded to a blur. When she came to, she was vaguely aware of a throbbing ache in her ribcage and Anderson calling her name.

She groaned, a hand on her head as Anderson rushed over to her, pulled her to her feet, pushed an M-3 Predator into her hand and told her to get her ass in gear.

He didn't have to tell her twice.

Leaving him behind on Earth was yet another thing to add to the list of _Hardest Things I've Ever Had to Do_. He was as much her father as the man who'd died back on Mindoir, and leaving him was like saying goodbye to her father all over again.

_Stay alive out there, Anderson. _She thought as the _Normandy _pulled away from Vancouver (or, what was left of it) and sped off into the atmosphere, _This war needs you._


	2. Thessia

_Author's Note:_

Howdy folks. Been a while. Before I posted this story, I had 3 fics on this site. After posting it, that number has jumped up to six-five of them still in-progress, and all of them based on BioWare games.

I regret nothing.

I admit this story fell on the backburner for a while in the onslaught of new ideas, and my motivation to go back and play the game after that ending was very slim. I still have yet to play it a second time, though the new extended cut dlc is a good motivator (I still haven't played it yet-no spoilers please). The only problem is, I have to go back in the meantime and raise my galactic readiness so I can get the "good" ending. I refuse to play the EC for the first time without that ending.

Anyways, it's the long weekend for us Canadians, and I figured now is a good a time as any to update a bunch of stories, and I was struck with inspiration on the ending to this fic after struggling with it for several months.

Hope you enjoy.

-BB

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><p><strong>Stream of Consciousness<br>**_Thessia_

She needed to get out of her quarters. She didn't care where, she just needed to find someplace where she didn't feel like the walls were closing in on her. So she ended up in the observatory with a bottle of whiskey.

That was (unsurprisingly) where Kaidan found her. It was abundantly clear that she was having one of those days, and it was understandable, after what had happened on Thessia. Who could have imagined things would turn out like _that_? Hearing the screams of the asari troops over the comm as the reapers descended on them was one of the most heartbreaking things he'd ever bear witness to, and the look on Shepard's face was one he hoped he'd never see again.

She was painstakingly silent on the return trip. That was what worried Kaidan the most. Shepard was never silent about _anything._ She _always_ had something to say. She could string words together into a speech that made morale shoot through the roof, and it would even be _eloquent_. But more often than not, every second word out of her mouth was an expletive, and _that_ was the Shepard he'd come to know and love. Not the quiet, solemn woman he watched stare unblinkingly at the shuttle floor for the entire duration of the trip back to the _Normandy_.

The same woman he was watching right now. He entered the room and sat beside her on the couch, just studying her for a moment. Her eyes were bloodshot, and though the redness of her cheeks could be blamed on the alcohol, it was still pretty obvious that she'd been crying.

Shepard didn't cry. He'd watched her tear up once before, watching Corporal Toombs take his own life barely four feet in front of her while she helplessly looked on. She'd picked up the pieces and pulled herself back together after Akuze only to discover that she was, in fact, _not_ the only survivor. Hope, answered with... death. She saw a once good, decent man, turn on everything they believed in and embrace the utter hopelessness that he knew she had been _so close_ to embracing herself. It seemed so long ago, now. "If it weren't for Anderson," she'd told Kaidan afterwards in private, "I never would have taken up command again. He always gives me a good boot in the ass when I need it." That was the closest he'd ever seen her come to crying.

Things were... well, awkward. But there were times like this where she just needed a drink and to sit with someone she trusted. He knew for a fact that he was the only person other than Garrus she was comfortable talking to about this stuff. Tali and Liara tended to get upset with her when she lost her temper, but Garrus and Kaidan both knew how to handle her when she went off on a tangent.

So, he just sat, letting the silence linger until she was ready to break it. When she offered him the bottle, he accepted it and took a swig straight from the bottle, elbows on knees, just reflecting on the battle. He knew full well she was analysing the mission over, and over, and over, finding mistakes and rectifying them, wondering how they could have been prevented. How it all could have been prevented.

Eventually, she did break the silence, leaning back on the couch and tilting her head back to meet the wall, "I just broke up a fight between Liara and Javik," She paused for a moment, "God, if you could have seen the look in her eyes." She moved again, balancing her elbows on her knees and letting the bottle dangle from her fingers, "I let them down, Kaidan. I let _Liara_ down."

"No, Liara was there, Shepard." He protested, "She knows you did everything you could."

"She lost her fucking homeworld. She watched it go up in flames. I wanted to save her from that."

"They'll rebuild." He said, scooting forward and placing a hand on her back, "Same as us."

"Javik can be a right bastard at times, but other times he knows exactly what to say." She said, changing the subject slightly, "He talked about how the protheans thought the asari had the most potential in his cycle. Told her to be strong. He chose a mighty cold way to say it, but still, I didn't expect that from him." She shrugged, "I guess it's understandable. He watched his entire species, everything he knew and loved reduced to ashes. I can't imagine how it must feel to be the _last _of your species in a galaxy that thought you were extinct."

He said nothing, took the bottle from her loose fingers, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and settled back onto the couch beside her, waiting for her to continue.

"You ever wonder what might have happened if we never found that beacon on Eden Prime?"

The question took him by surprise, but he answered honestly, leaning back to match her position as she did the same, looking at her from the corner of his eye, "We'd probably all be dead by now."

"Yeah." She replied with a shrug, "Maybe."

Silence fell again for a moment before she turned her face towards him and opened her eyes, "Sometimes I wonder, why me? It could just as easily have been you, you know. Why did fate, or God, or whatever higher power there is in the universe decide that I was the one to shoulder the weight of the entire galaxy?"

He chuckled lightly, "I doubt my L2 implant could have taken that kind of punishment."

"Mm," she said, nodding her head slightly, "_I _could barely take it. I still remember waking up in the medbay, trying to make sense of it all. I couldn't figure out what was dream and what was reality. I suddenly had all these memories in my head with no knowledge of how they got there, of things I knew for a fact I'd never seen before. Faces of people that I had never met. War. Destruction. _So much death_."

He didn't know what to say. What could he say? An entire galaxy of civilization, completely eradicated. He couldn't possibly imagine bearing witness to that. Anything he could have said just seemed... inadequate.

He felt her hand settle on his, and her fingers entwined with his own. He looked at her as she turned to face him again, "Thank you for being there. I needed that." Her smile turned wry, "I barely knew you, but it was nice to see the face of someone who was there when it happened, to tell me that it wasn't all just a dream, and that I wasn't going crazy."

He gave her hand a squeeze, "Chakwas never would have been able to keep me out of that medbay."

She chuckled softly, and the smile was a welcome sight on her tired, worn face. It faded all too quickly as she spoke again, "I just can't shake the feeling that we could have been better prepared if they had just _fucking listened_ to me—_shit _it was like Akuze all over again." She sighed, shrugging with a shake of her head, "Yeah, it sounds crazy, I know. A race of sentient machines hell-bent on wiping us all out. All that _'salvation through destruction' _bullshit. I get it." She raised the glass to her lips and downed the whiskey in a single gulp, "But I've done a lot for this galaxy. Both me andmy crew. We've risked everything to keep it safe. Shouldn't that have counted for _something_?"

"They were scared, Shepard. They feared the unknown, and even when everything started to point to your claims being accurate, they thought they had more time."

"Oh, _fuck_ that!" She spat, her brows knitted together in a sudden onset of temper, "That is _bullshit_, Kaidan, and you know it! You don't think I'm scared? I'm fucking terrified, and I'm only just _barely _holding myself together for the sake of my crew. Fear's just an excuse, and a lame-ass one at that! I sent three hundred _thousand_ batarians to their deaths to give them more time, and they _wasted_ it! I spent six months _rotting in a detention cell_, when I could have been doing something useful, like—oh, I dunno—_stopping the reapers_ before they got here!"

Ah. There it was. The root of the problem.

"You turned yourself in, Shepard."

"Yeah, I did." She said, "But like an idiot, I thought, after everything that happened in the Bahak system, they would use that time to prepare. I _thought _that the Alliance and the galaxy could, at the very least, prepare for the invasion and keep itself alive without my help. God only knows what they did before I came around. I'm not hiding behind all the good that I've done. I destroyed an entire system, Kaidan. Granted, it was that or let the reapers come through our back door, but that doesn't change the fact that hundreds of thousands of batarians died in the process, because of me. That's why I turned myself in."

In a fit of frustration, she leapt to her feet, pacing back and forth with the whiskey bottle dangling from her fingers, "I am so fucking stupid sometimes. They had never listened to me before. Why would it have been any different?"

Before he knew it, the whiskey bottle had left her hand and smashed into the opposite wall in an explosion of glass and amber liquid, "If they had just listened to me in the beginning, we might have been able to stop the reapers before they came! If we had taken action to prepare sooner, maybe Thessia would have been saved. Maybe Palaven wouldn't be razed to smoking hole in the ground! Maybe Earth wouldn't be wiped to nothing more than a shell of what it once was!"

His brows furrowing, he was behind her in seconds, his arms wrapped around her and his chin hooking over her left shoulder. He felt the tension leave her body with a sigh, and her hands came up to settle on his forearms, "Listen, Shepard. I know you want to cast blame for what happened. On yourself, on the council. But the fact is, nobody could have prepared for this. For a fleet of that size. Thessia was already doomed by the time we got there."

"I know." She said, sighing, "It's just... frustrating to know that everything I've done, everything we've sacrificed to stop the reapers from coming has done nothing. I don't like this feeling, Kaidan." Her voice cracked with emotion as she said his name, and he tightened his arms around her in an attempt at comforting her, "I don't like feeling helpless."

"You're not." He argued, his voice confidently strong to battle with the wavering uncertainty that was her own voice, "Shepard, you managed to get krogan and salarians to work together. You helped cure the genophage, and single-handedly brokered peace between the quarians and the geth. If anyone can do this, it's you."

Her face fell, and he could see the muscles in her jaw working as she clenched her teeth, and her voice wavered pathetically as she asked him, barely above a whisper, "What if I can't?"

_No. No way. No way I'm letting her doubt herself. _Shaking his head, he turned her in his arms and bent his neck, nudging her head up and meeting her forehead with his own, forcing her to look at him through her glassy eyed gaze, "You will." His hands moved to frame her face, "Do you hear me, Dana? You will."

_You will, because you're the most stubborn, pig-headed woman I've ever met._

She blinked, and two traitorous tears fell as she lowered her gaze again and he pulled her close. Burying her head in his chest, her silent tears soaked through his shirt and his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

Tightening his arms around her, he lowered his face and rested his cheek on the top of her head. He had never seen her like this. This tired, hopeless woman was not Shepard. Not his Dana.

The weight of the galaxy had fallen mercilessly onto her battered, weary shoulders, and she was finally beginning to crumble under its crushing pressure.

But he was here now. He would be her strength—her soft place to land.

And he wasn't going anywhere.


	3. Recovery

**_Author's Note:_**

Howdy folks,

This ones makes reference to my ME3 ending fic, _Really Over, _which is just basically my take on the ME3 ending (written before the EC DLC came out-which I still haven't played, by the way). You can check it out if you want, but you don't really have to.

It's been a while since I've written anything for this story, but this one-shot hit me the other day while I was at work, and it just so happened to be a slow day. So I typed it up at work. Because I'm productive like that.

The ending was inspired by this gif set I found on Tumblr by the lovely and talented Nhaneh: nhaneh dot tumblr dot com slash post slash 26079318891 slash oops-i-animated

Go check out her Tumblr. She's pretty awesome. And while you're at it, you can check out mine under the url TheTivster if you feel so inclined.

Enjoy,

BB

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><p><strong>Stream of Consciousness<br>**_Recovery_

They held her in a makeshift hospital near the coast of Vancouver Island. It was little more than a pre-fab outfitted with equipment and supplies salvaged from ship medical bays and clinics around the island, but it was the best the city had to offer after the invasion the earth had suffered.

Though Shepard had been talking, cursing and sounding mostly like herself when they had found her inside the ruined citadel, they did not know the true extent of her injuries until they got her in the _Normandy_'s medbay. Third degree burns covered sixty percent of her body—much of it caused by her destroyed armour melting in Harbinger's blast and fusing to her skin. Six ribs had cracked, puncturing–and collapsing–her right lung, the wound in her side had nearly destroyed one of her kidneys, her left leg was broken in three places, her left shoulder and elbow were both dislocated and the amount of blood she'd lost by the time they got her into the medbay should have killed her—and those injuries had only been the beginning. Indeed, the only reason she was alive by the time Kaidan and Garrus had found her had been because of Cerberus' cybernetic upgrades and what was left of her armour automatically delivering stims and medi-gel into her system. But they had only been meant to serve as short-term solutions – just mere battlefield dressings meant only to last until the injured soldier received more substantial help from a professional.

And so, by the time the _Normandy_ had cut into the Citadel, and Kaidan had gingerly taken her in his arms, her breathing had shallowed and she had lost consciousness.

When they later reached the hospital, the injuries she'd received from the battle had been followed by what seemed like an endless list of internal injuries and organ failures due to the trauma to her system. She had awakened again by this time, but the adrenaline from the battle had worn off and her agony had been so intense he could hardly bear it.

He could still hear her screams.

Then, she'd fallen silent entirely, and her failing internal organs had sent her into a series of violent seizures to the point where the doctors placed her in a medically induced coma.

He had lost track of how much time had passed after that point. He didn't care to know if it had been days, weeks, even months. His days consisted of sitting by her bedside, her hand unresponsive in his own, hoping, praying that he would see her emerald eyes again, hear her laugh, be on the receiving end of her ire. He wanted all of it, the good and the bad. He wanted _her_.

Several times, one of the others would come by to relieve him, and each and every time, he refused to leave her side until Garrus and Tali had come in. Tali stayed with her while Garrus had dragged him out practically kicking and screaming.

"Shit, Alenko." Garrus muttered, looking him up and down, "You look like hell. When's the last time you slept?"

He couldn't say. His nights had been restless and racked by nightmares, and he hadn't truly slept for more than a couple hours at a time since the battle.

The interrogation continued, "Have you even eaten anything in the last two days?"

Barely.

"I'm fine." Kaidan grumbled, "Shepard—"

"Shepard's fine, Alenko." Garrus responded, his mandibles flaring in what had to be barely restrained anger, "Don't kill yourself waiting. She's going to want you there when she wakes up, and she's going to be pissed if she sees you like this."

Garrus had a point—she'd hate to see him like this. She'd probably unload with a liberal amount of profanities and more than a few surprisingly tough punches to his person if she woke up and could see that he hadn't been taking care of himself.

He opened his mouth to argue, but Garrus continued, "I'm not letting you anywhere near that room for the rest of the day unless something happens. Spirits, Kaidan, go _home_. Get a shower. Have a drink."

"Garrus and I will stay with her in the meantime." Tali had stepped outside long enough to back the turian up. She stepped up to Kaidan, placing a hand on his forearm and it seemed like she could see into his soul through that purple faceplate of hers, see how broken and alone he felt, "Please. You're not the only one who cares for her, but we care about you, too. If anything happens, I promise, you'll be the first to know."

As much as he wanted to argue, he knew they were right. He had been ignoring himself ever since they'd brought her here. He didn't even know the extent to which he looked like shit—he hadn't bothered to look in a mirror in who knows how long.

Grudgingly, he let out a sigh and nodded without a word, turning on his heel and making his way out of the building.

English Bay looked pretty much the same as before. The Reapers hadn't come this far outside the main city center by the time they had been defeated, so his parents' home was (thankfully) spared from the destruction. His mother was still at the orchard where his father had brought her, but seeing her would be impossible while Shepard was in the hospital, so he was alone in his parents' house. He'd since showered, and raided whatever was left in the pantry, and was now sitting on the deck, trying to pin down his anxiety. This time, however, sitting on the deck overlooking the bay with a lager in hand just didn't have the same calming effect on him. It rather made him realize how much he wanted Shepard here to see it with him.

But when he returned to the hospital the following day, freshly showered and hunger sated, he admittedly did feel better about himself. The hunger and lack of significant sleep had done nothing but feed his anxiety, and he realized that now. Tali was right in that he was not the only one who cared about her. He decided that day, as he settled at her bedside again, that he would be more willing to let the others relieve him when they offered. At least until Shepard had been taken off the meds and it was just a matter of time until she awakened again. When that time came, they would be hard-pressed to peel him away from her bedside, so determined was he to be the first face that she saw when she opened her eyes.

His determination paid off, however, four weeks later. It had been a long, hard journey of surgeries, skin grafts, and blood transfusions—he was actually pretty glad she was asleep for it all. She'd been off the medication keeping her in a coma for only eight hours before she finally woke. He remembered kissing her forehead while she was unresponsive, and telling her how much he loved and missed her before falling asleep on her bedside with his head resting on his forearms. He didn't know how much later it was when he felt a hand resting heavily on the back of his head, threading fingers through his salt and pepper hair, and honestly, he didn't care to know.

He _knew _that touch. He had waited nearly two months to feel that touch again. Feel that hand in his hair. It was so surreal that he thought it was a dream at first, a bittersweet rendition of his subconscious to make up for the utter lack of her touch. But then he opened his eyes and the touch was still there, still warm and gentle, still threading fingers through his hair and sending chills down his spine.

His head lifted in disbelief until he saw those deep green irises barely peering out at him between two heavy eyelids. Unable to think for a moment, he simply stared at her in shock until her lips quirked to the side and she gave him a weak little smirk that was so undeniably _Dana _it made his heart nearly leap out of his chest.

"Hey," she croaked, her voice scratchy and rough from disuse, her eyebrows knitting together in pain from her dry throat.

Immediately, he reached for the as yet untouched glass of water one of the nurses had brought in for him, holding it carefully for her to take a sip which she gratefully accepted.

She nodded for him to take it away, and cleared her throat. It was at that moment that it truly hit him. She was back. She was awake. She was _alive_.

He couldn't keep the smile from his face when he simply said, "Hi."

A few moments of silence passed before her smile widened, and an eyebrow lifted, "Well, are you going to kiss me Major, or do I have to come over there? Because one of those two things involves me doing something I'm not quite sure I can do yet."

"You stay right there." He replied, his hand brushing a stray lock of her reddish bangs out of her face and settling on her cheek as he leaned forward and placed a sweet, feather-light kiss on her lips. She smiled against his mouth and arched her neck to bring her face closer until he pulled away, settling his forehead against hers and just taking in the fact that she was alive_, _and that she was going to be okay. There were a scarce few who could attest to surviving the things they had survived. They had defeated Saren and the geth. She had been launched into space and suffocated to death, only to come back into his life when he had lost all hope of ever seeing her again. Then, she had launched _herself_ into a suicide mission through the Omega 4 relay, taken down the collector homeworld, and returned unscathed _with _her crew. And now, they had survived an invasion from massive sentient machines hell-bent on wiping out humanity and the rest of civilization as they knew it. He wondered if she still wanted to make good on that early retirement, because he wasn't sure he could handle losing her again.

"Marry me." He said, now that he finally had the chance.

Her smile turned wry and she lifted her head to kiss him again, sliding her weak arms up around his neck and holding him close as their lips parted and she placed her face beside his ear, whispering, "Fuck yes."

Grinning, he withdrew, having expected nothing else from her as the nurse came in to check her vitals after seeing the spectacle and allowing them to have their moment. He held her hand through it all, savouring each moment as if it was his last, when in reality, their lives were only just beginning.


End file.
